


Finding life together

by Lotuslia



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5721628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotuslia/pseuds/Lotuslia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saved here from my deleted sideblog.<br/>One idea of The Disciple and Psiioniic's pasts, where they were slaves together before meeting Signless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding life together

= = > Be the Disciple.

That is not your name yet. For now, you are Meulin Leijon, a fierce but controlled little troll in a cage. You’re seven sweeps old, and you’ve not been free in sweeps. The earliest memories you have are from learning to hunt with your lusus, but everything that comes after is capture and chains. A collar to mark your caste, and a sign burned into your shoulder to mark the ownership of some highblooded asshole.

You’re a midblood, but just low enough to fall on the lower side of green, and so you end up as a slave in the slums, learning to live like the lowest of the castes, even though mostly all the others are lower than you. Not that you care, you’ve never really given a single shit about the blood caste system, other than to know your place, to know what to expect from your own life. You had hopes of being just a bit over the general hue of freedom, but you ended up disappointed. Disappointed, and hurt from being naïve enough to fight back.

\---

You’re seven sweeps old and a slave, but you have a friend.

Your friend is eight sweeps, he has been here for longer than you, and he’s kept like a pet, except they are not kind to him. He sparks at them from his red-and-blue eyes, and sneers at whoever looks at him the wrong way, usually receiving a swift kick onto his side, but he refuses to give in. The only time he calms down is when he’s with you, because he knows they will hurt you, too, if he acts out when you're together. You’re glad he spends a lot of time with you, because you hate seeing him hurt.

He’s just as fierce as you are, or at the very least very close to it, and he’s constantly in trouble. Mituna has seen the small punishment cell likely more than his actual cell, if you dare guess. You fear for him, but you also admire him, and you know he does the same. You’re like siblings, whatever that means here, and you look out for each other whenever possible.

You’re seven sweeps old, and you have a brother to trust.

—-

It takes only a few perigees for the rumors to spread properly in the midst of slaves. There is something big starting, and it’s getting closer.

You hear of it one evening when you’re getting ready for the long night ahead, and it surprises you completely. A signless troll is speaking for the freedom of your kind, saying you should not be owned by anyone. He’s young, perhaps your age, and so stupidly brave that you can’t help but admire him as well.

You tell Mituna, and he laughs. He laughs like the dork he is and says it’s ridiculous, the troll will be captured and killed in no time, and that you shouldn’t pay him attention any more. You realize your brother hasn’t given up fighting for his life, his food, and for you, but he doesn’t fight for his freedom, because he never believed it to be possible.

You leave the thoughts for now, and return to work.

—-

You’re almost eight sweeps now, and you can’t ignore the words anymore. Mituna still doesn’t show any change to his attitude, but he seems to have some more hope for his fate, having listened as well. You can see it from the way he fights with a bit more fierceness, and how he’s turned back to the silly pranks he used to pull on the guards when you were younger and he wanted to cheer you up. He’s not as hopeless anymore, and you feel relieved.

And eventually, you get the chance to follow the cloaked troll who spoke such weird things to you.

There is a problem though. You get the chance. He doesn’t.

When your chance comes, he is in no shape to be running at all, barely even walking straight as it is. He’s angered your owner badly by breaking a window by accident, and now he’s on the very first steps of recovery from his punishment. He sits on the floor of the room you have, curled around his shaky and injured feet that have been chained to the floor by the ankles, looking up at you with hesitation, which you meet with even greater hesitation. You know you’ll get caught if you try to take him along now, but if you stay, you’ll never get another chance.

You hesitate too long, and he snaps at you to go, he’ll be fine, he’ll find another chance when he’s better, and he’ll find you and you’ll travel with the strange troll together. You cry, hug him so tight he winces, and promise to come back for him. With help, you’ll be able to get him out for sure. Then, you can both be free.

You run.

—-

= = > Be the Psiioniic.

You’re nearly nine sweeps old, and you’re watching your sister run away, for her freedom.

You could have had this chance, but you fucked it up. Like you always did. Nothing’s changed on that part, but you’re glad and relieved and- so, so jealous, that she managed to get out. You’re happy for her, you would give anything to keep her out there, safe, but you also feel so jealous you could just cry.

And you do, but just for a moment, and you never admit it to anyone later on.

Now, you rest, and later on, you get back to work. This time, alone. This time, you don’t hold back on your behavior, you’ve got nobody left here to keep safe. Of course, you cannot break free on your own, but it helps you to try.

—-

= = > Be the Disciple.

You’re ten sweeps old, and you’ve just been through another sermon with your little family. As much as you believe them with all your being, even after all these sweeps, you still feel a bit hollow when you listen to your matesprit’s words of equality and freedom.

You feel so lucky to have gotten here, to have such a great family around yourself, but you miss something, someone. You fear for that someone.

You remember, two perigees had passed before you’d managed to return for Mituna, to get him out of the owner’s hands, but when you got to the right place well-prepared, he was no longer there. Your brother had been sold off for healing too slowly, and you had no clues as to where he was now. All you knew was that he wasn’t free, and you couldn’t free him anymore. Your chance had passed. Signless comforted you, telling you he’d help you look around, wherever you traveled. You trusted him, and honestly, it was no wonder you ended up as matesprits some perigees later.

But still, you felt so sad for your brother, missing.

\---

Until one night, when you were twelve sweeps old and a proper huntress, the scribe of your group, and you were walking back from a sermon in a city. Your family was walking beside you, cloaked and safe, but you kept your hood down. It was safe for now, and nobody knew you around here.

You walked past a slave market, and you could hear your matesprit mumbling something angrily, hating these places. Your stomach sunk at the sight of the stands, the clear memory of them still fresh even after these sweeps, and you nearly turned your head away, until you saw a familiar face in the small group of slaves on the stands.

You froze, staring, and you could hear Signless calling for you, but you didn’t listen.

That was your brother, standing in line chained up and being bidded for. Your voice was stuck in your throat, but your companions could easily tell what had made you stop, having heard your story of the escape before. Mituna hadn’t seen you, or rather he didn’t recognize you as his dull gaze swept over the crowd, but you looked at him with sad eyes. The single sign on his shoulder had turned into multiple burned signs, marks of being sold many times to undoubtedly bad owners, judging by how you could see his ribs and how he looked like he could topple over at any moment.

He was nothing like the fierce troll you knew, they’d taught him fear and obediency more than you ever thought possible. Head hung, he obeyed their orders quickly and quietly, shrinking away whenever anyone even raised a hand to bid on him, much rather touch him. You knew it was because he’d been alone, they’d managed to break him. You felt the guilt try and swallow you whole, but you couldn’t let that continue. You had your chance here, and you would use it.

Fire in your eyes, you walked to the front of the stands, raising a hand and bidded higher than anyone, not that it required much. He was a psychic, but he was used, older than the rest at thirteen sweeps, and so weak from the sweeps of abuse. You barely had the money for it, but you bought him, and perhaps it was for the best he didn’t look at you, or they might have suspected something based on his reaction.

—-

= = > Be the Psiioniic.

That is your name now, given by the slavers who refused to remember your hatchname. You’d been through so many owners you didn’t bother counting anymore. At first they had sold you away for disobedience, but later on just for the weakness you showed after being used so roughly in work and other things. Things you’d rather not think about.

And here you were, at the start of the cycle again, on the stands of the market. And someone just bought you.

Tiredly, you follow the slavers down the stairs, and hold out your chained wrists at your new owners, three of them, it seems. That’s new. What you weren’t expecting, was the sad noise, being pulled behind a corner, and straight into the tightest hug you have ever experienced, ever since—

… Your eyes went wide in remembrance right as you find your face smushed into a mane of hair, smelling like the forest and the person wrapped around you is warm. Not as warm as you, but close. You remember this warmth, the hair, and the voice that is starting to sob out apologies for never finding you on time.

You are thirteen sweeps old, and you finally found your sister again.

You are thirteen sweeps old, and you’re finally free.

She’s crying, and you don’t even care that you are too, you just want to hold onto her forever, but you know you have to move at some point, or you’ll get in trouble. Touch in general isn’t really your topmost thing to enjoy nowadays, but you’ve missed her so much, so you fight through your instincts that tell you to flinch away and hide. This is your sister, and you know you won’t have to fear.

Once you feel like she’s squeezed all the air out of you successfully, you finally move back, shaky on your feet but a familiar tired and dorky smile on your face, hand still clutching hers. You turn to see who’s speaking to you, and see two cloaked trolls, one jade and another…gray? These must be the trolls you’ve heard of in the past, the ones Meulin spoke of. You’re glad she made it to them.

They greet you, and you mumble something quietly, still nervous around them, but they don’t seem to mind. The troll without a sign walks closer to you two, and after a quick kiss to Meulin’s cheek (which you find adorable, especially with her laugh afterwards), he offers you a hand, and a gentle yet determined smile.

“Welcome to the family, Mituna.”

—-

You travel with them for a sweep, before the movement grows too much and you end up overpowered by the highbloods, taken to capture, and put back to where you belonged all along.

Only, this time, you’re alone to stay, and your family is gone. Your sister is god-knows-where on her own, your ‘mother’ is a slave like you, and your brother, your moirail, is dead.

And you’re to be a simple piece of machinery, nothing more.  You’d always wanted to get off this dreadful planet, but never like this. And never alone.

You repeat through the sweep of freedom you had, until you start to forget.


End file.
